


Light

by Gemmiel



Series: Touch Me [8]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Hopefully not too much, M/M, makoharu - Freeform, minor spoilers for starting days, which you probably know already, yet another in an endless line of sequels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-07-28 16:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7648825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmiel/pseuds/Gemmiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Haru is beginning to come to terms with his feelings for Makoto, but knowing how he feels and SAYING how he feels are two entirely different things.</p>
<p>Another entry in my "Touch Me" series, and a sequel to "Power."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have the day off, so I'm writing as much as I can. Here is the first long-promised chapter of "Light." I expect this story to be fairly long, and the updates will necessarily be slower than they once were. As always, feedback is loved and cherished. I deeply appreciate you guys for sticking with me through all these sequels!

Nanase Haruka is in class, and he's bored to tears. 

He's never been a particularly good student. It's not that he's dumb. He's just very, very focused on one thing, and that thing doesn't happen to be algebra, or English, or Japanese literature. All Haru cares about-- all he's ever cared about-- is swimming.

Well, he admits, that isn't totally true. He cares about his friends, too.

Especially Tachibana Makoto.

He and Makoto have been best friends practically forever, and recently-- very recently-- they've become a little more than friends. Maybe a lot more than friends. Haru is still trying to figure out his feelings, but he knows he cares about Makoto just as much as he cares about swimming. Maybe even a little more.

But swimming and Makoto are all tangled up in his head, inextricably entwined. When he thinks of swimming, he inevitably thinks of Makoto. Maybe that's part of why he loves swimming so much, because it reminds him of Makoto. They used to swim together in the ocean for hours when they were little, and it was Makoto who talked him into joining a swim team to begin with. He's wondered more than once if he might be a totally different person if he'd never met Makoto, or if he'd even have been a swimmer.

A long-ago memory comes to mind. Makoto, smiling his happiest smile, and saying, _I want to swim with you because I love swimming... and I love you, Haru-chan._

That had been way back in middle school. Haru had just figured Makoto had meant the two of them were best friends, but now that he knows Makoto's been in love with him for a long, long time, he realizes with a pang of guilt that Makoto had meant it just as sincerely then as he does now.

Makoto loves him. He's always loved him. And Haru--

Well, Haru still isn't sure what love is, or if it describes what he feels for Makoto.

He scoffs at himself. The truth is, he knows perfectly well how he feels. He just doesn't want to admit it. Because the last time he blurted out those words to someone... they left for good.

And that's stupid. Irrational. It's dumb to think the same thing is going to happen again, because Makoto certainly isn't going anywhere. The two of them have stood by each other, leaned on each other, protected one another, for almost their entire lives, and neither is going to walk away now.

Haru knows that, intellectually. But on some level, he's very, very scared of losing Makoto.

No. He's terrified. The one thing he can't stand to think about is losing his friend. Just the thought of it makes him shiver with fear. And so he doesn't dare blurt out the words.

The ironic part is, though, that if he can't say them, sooner or later, his inability to return Makoto's affection might just be the thing that drives the other man away.

The professor is rambling on about _The Tale of the Heike,_ but Haru tuned him out and quit taking notes about ten minutes ago. Instead he's been drawing-- sketching a skinny young man with disheveled hair falling damply around his face. The boy in the sketch has his head tilted to the side, and his grin is so broad and happy that his eyes are nearly shut.

Haru looks at his sketch and realizes he's drawn a younger Makoto without even intending to. He's drawn Makoto in that moment when he smiled and said, _I love swimming... and I love you, Haru-chan._

He sighs, looking down at the picture. The memory makes his heart ache. The thought of Makoto loving him all those years-- silently, faithfully...

It must have really hurt, he thinks slowly, when Makoto blurted out those words, and he didn't respond. And yet eventually Makoto had found the strength to say the words again. And once again he hadn't said them back.

But still Makoto stayed with him.

If Makoto can be brave enough to say those words a second time, even in the face of what he must have perceived as rejection, then why can't he find the courage to say them too?

He lifts his pen away from the paper, where he's been absently adding texture to Makoto's hair, and holds it in the air, irresolute. The professor is still droning, but he might as well be a thousand kilometers away. Haru doesn't hear him. A new thought has taken hold in his brain.

_Even if I can't say it, maybe I can write it._

He puts his pen to the paper again, and very carefully and deliberately forms words.

_I love him._

He looks at the words. They look right. They feel right. They feel... true.

Cautiously, he lowers his pen to paper again.

_I love him._  
_I love him._  
_I love him._

He keeps writing the words, slowly at first, then with more confidence. At last he's covered every bit of paper around Makoto's face, and only then does he put down the pen. He scowls at the paper.

_I can write the words,_ he thinks in frustration. _So why is it so hard to **say** them?_

He's scared. He knows that. But he thinks there's more to it than that, too. He's never been good with words, and he's afraid that if he tries to say those words to Makoto, he'll blurt out something stupid. Maybe even something hurtful. And he can't bear to cause his boyfriend pain.

He'd rather never utter another word again than hurt Makoto worse than he already has.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience! It took me forever to decide where I wanted to go with this, but I feel like I have it going in the right direction now, thanks to "Starting Days," which I am referencing heavily in this fic.
> 
> I immensely appreciate all the kind comments and kudos (soooo many kudos considering I'd written less than a thousand words till now-- thanks!!!). You all keep me writing!

Makoto has big plans for tonight.

This will be his first real date with Haru, and he's planned out every moment, every destination, in almost obsessive detail. He wants the two of them to go to a really nice restaurant, and then to the latest movie starring Ichijou Ryouma, one of their favorite movie stars. And then he wants to do a little sight-seeing-- something the two of them haven't had a lot of time for since they arrived, because they've been too busy with studies and swimming. In particular, he wants to stroll out onto the walkway along the Rainbow Bridge, Haru's hand in his. He wants to stare at the lights of the Tokyo skyline glistening like a million diamonds and reflecting in the dancing water of the bay, with Haru at his side.

He wants tonight to be _perfect._ So he's understandably a little irritated with Haru right now.

"Haru." He's trying to sound steady and commanding, but not succeeding too well, because Haru's mouth is attached to his nipple, and it is _distracting._ "We have reservations."

"So we'll be quick about it."

That sounds like a very reasonable compromise, except Makoto doesn't actually think he's capable of rushing through sex with Haru. It's still all too new and too wonderful, and it invariably turns into him compelling Haru (who's always in a damn hurry) to slow down, while he employs mouth and hands to explore every inch of Haru's beautiful body with careful and adoring thoroughness.

"Mmmmpppphhhh," he answers. It sounded more articulate in his head, and he tries again. "Why don't we do this afterward?"

"Need you now," Haru says. The words aren't particularly clear, since his mouth is still roaming over Makoto's chest, but Makoto gets the gist of it. "Realized today-- how much I need you-- Mako-chan--"

Makoto groans softly, because how the hell is he supposed to say no to that? He's putty in Haru's hands (always has been, really), and if Haru wants him so much that he had to jump him the instant he got home from class--

Well, the Rainbow Bridge will still be there tomorrow.

Haru must sense his capitulation, because his hands slip down to the waistband of Makoto's jeans and start unfastening his belt. Haru has incredibly dexterous fingers, and almost before Makoto knows what's happening, his jeans are falling down around his ankles. He steps out of them, then grabs Haru's hips and pulls him closer.

He's hard already, and the pressure of Haru's body against his drags a breathy, needy sound from his throat. He wants Haru in every way possible, and images of what they might do together fill his head, so graphic that they make his cheeks heat a little. He's not as shy as he used to be about sex, but the thought of going down on his knees and-- and--

Well, images like that still make him blush ferociously. But he can't stop himself from thinking them.

The truth is, he likes taking Haru into his mouth and making him cry out, but there's something he wants more, a lot more. He hasn't been inside Haru for a few days, and he wants it so badly he can hardly stand it. He's been putting it off till tonight, thinking that it might make tonight more special, that after their date it might be nice to make love to Haru, to fill his tight, hot body, slowly and sweetly and carefully...

But it's growing increasingly clear that Haru has absolutely no intentions of taking it slow. His body is pressing eagerly against Makoto's, his hands trailing over Makoto's back, while his mouth traces intricate designs over Makoto's collarbones and throat. His every caress is calculated to make Makoto crazy. Which is typical Haru-- he always wants to dive right into the deep end, headfirst.

It's working, because Makoto is definitely going crazy already. But he refuses to let Haru drag him into doing this too quickly. He is aware, however, that he's rapidly losing control of the situation, so he unwinds Haru's arms from around him, grasps his wrists firmly, and shoves him up against the nearest wall, pinning his arms over his head.

"Slow down," he says firmly.

Haru moans, a noise of pleasure and protest, all at once. Makoto isn't at all surprised by the aching desperation in his voice, because over the past couple of weeks he's learned that Haru likes being restrained, being told what to do, being controlled. 

He lowers his head and nips at Haru's ear. Haru is ridiculously sensitive there, and he lets out a whimper like Makoto is doing something very dirty to him. The pitiful little sound makes Makoto's dick twitch, and he presses his body against Haru's.

Damn it, he realizes, Haru is still wearing jeans. He's still wearing _everything._ And he can't hold Haru's arms against the wall and tear his clothes off at the same time. He simply doesn't have enough hands.

And yet he _has_ to get Haru's clothes off. Sometime in the past five minutes, this has become an extremely important priority in his life.

"Keep your hands right there," he grits out, and lets go of Haru's arms. He yanks off the t-shirt over Haru's head, and the sight of the broad, muscular chest punches him in the gut hard enough to drive the air out of his lungs.

Haru is so incredibly gorgeous, and the fact that someone like him, who could easily be a model or a movie star if swimming didn't pan out, wants someone ordinary like Makoto-- well, it still astounds him. Haru is gorgeous and brilliant and amazingly talented, whereas Makoto's just... Makoto. 

He fumbles at Haru's jeans, all but consumed with need and want. He's been in love with Haru for years now, and before the two of them got involved, he longed for Haru, loved him hopelessly, dreamed about touching him, fantasized about kissing him. But his feelings for Haru have gone far beyond mere _want_ now.

What he feels for Haru in this instant is lust, all-consuming need, a greedy, rapacious hunger that can't be satisfied for long, no matter what the two of them do together. 

Dizzy with need, he drags the jeans off, and Haru's boxers, and then Haru is naked in front of him, leaning against the wall, his head tilted back, his eyes shut, his chest heaving. His arms are still raised over his head, and he looks like he's Makoto's for the taking, like he's offering himself up freely, for whatever Makoto wants. And Makoto wants a lot. He wants to kiss every inch of Haru, to touch him, to mark him with love bites as he holds him down and--

Oh, God. He wants to take Haru. No-- he wants to _fuck_ Haru. _Hard._

It's not like they haven't done this before, but they're still new at it, and he always tries really hard to go slowly, gently, so as not to hurt the smaller man. But tonight he doesn't have a lot of confidence in his ability to control himself. He _wants,_ too much.

Makoto sucks in a deep breath, getting hold of himself. He has to get a grip, for Haru's sake. He has to. He closes his eyes for a moment, gathering his tattered self-control, then opens them and leans toward Haru, so close that their noses almost touch. 

"Haru-chan," he says, softly but firmly, "come with me."

*****

Haru looks into the huge green eyes, and suddenly he remembers the picture he doodled in class earlier, a sketch depicting a much younger, skinnier Makoto. He's much bigger now, fully grown into his massive frame and wide shoulders and powerful muscles, but his eyes are just the same as they always were, wide and guileless and reflecting his every emotion. 

He remembers that night long ago, remembers Makoto leaning into him, the emerald eyes intense with a sudden realization. _I'm me,_ he'd said softly, just before he'd brightened and said, _Haru, come with me. Let's go!_

He'd grabbed Haru's hand then, tugging him down the stone staircase, and Haru had obediently followed him to the pool. In that moment, with that look in Makoto's eyes, he would have followed the taller boy anywhere. He'd been too young to really understand love back then, but running through the streets that night with his hand clasped in Makoto's, he'd felt the bond between them, so powerful it almost seemed an unbreakable cord held the two of them together.

He can't say no to Makoto now, either, not when Makoto is looking at him with those brilliant green eyes, wearing that expression that conveys all the love and affection that he feels. Haru is older now, and over the past couple of weeks he's grown to understand that he belongs to Makoto, body and soul. All at once it strikes him that the two of them have belonged together since a night when Makoto took his hand, dragged him to the pool, and said, _I love you, Haru-chan._

And-- Haru remembers with a pang of guilt-- he had looked away, avoiding eye contact, and responded, _Drop the -chan._

He wonders now if his words had hurt Makoto, or if Makoto had understood. Haru's said those words so many times since then, and every time they've been a reminder of that night, a deliberate echo of an important moment in their friendship. He's pretty sure that Makoto understands why he always says it, that Makoto understands him and all his oddities. He thinks that Makoto's always understood him, even when no one else does.

He looks up into the green eyes, deliberately making eye contact. It's never easy for him, but for Makoto, he can do it. He stares straight into the bright eyes, remembering the words he wrote earlier, over and over again. _I love him. I love him. I love him._

"Drop the -chan," he says.

Makoto's teeth flash in such a happy grin that it makes Haru's heart squeeze. Yes, he thinks. Makoto understands. He always has.

"Let's go," Makoto says. He takes Haru's hand and leads him toward the bedroom.

And just as he did all those years ago... Haru follows.


End file.
